


The Bedrooms are Cherry

by Abydosorphan



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-11
Updated: 2005-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abydosorphan/pseuds/Abydosorphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a sentence can just linger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bedrooms are Cherry

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this can be blamed/credited to Atomicpagan (Jo). It started as fluff, or at least the idea did… but yeah, well, it didn't wind up that way.

It was odd how a statement could just hang there in the air. It could seem so innocent and innocuous under most circumstances, but he knew it meant so much more.

_"The bedrooms are cherry blossom white…"_

It was almost three in the morning. They'd taken up their usual duties when members of certain teams were down – most often SG1. Her sitting on the left side of the hospital bed, keeping a close eye on vitals, her hand often slipping into that of her patient as she watched over him as she promised his teammates she would. While he sat on the right side of the bed, keeping watch.

It was a ritual that they'd started in the early days of her being named CMO of the facility, something that seemed to just come naturally from their positions of virtual 'mother and father' over anything and everything that happened here. It might have contributed to their eventual involvement, but it wasn't the only reason for it.

Hammond watched her, attempting to make sure that the words she had uttered were truly for him, though what Ba'al's capture and subsequent torture of Colonel O'Neill could have to do with the color of the paint she'd used in her bedrooms was beyond him.

The conversations that they had at these times were usually mundane. Things that they couldn't talk about in the presence of others, things that in and of themselves weren't inappropriate but still gave off the overall sense of impropriety.

Like the color of the paint in the bedrooms of her house.

He'd only been there once, not that long ago, after a makeshift wake for a man that hadn't really died. He'd never seen her bedroom, never allowed himself the luxury.

He remembered sitting at her kitchen table, drinking his coffee, staring at the fruit bowl filled with bananas and wondering when everyone else would leave. He hadn't been able to comfort her with them there. No matter how much he could look the other way when O'Neill put his arm around Samantha Carter and let her lean on him for support, he couldn't allow himself the same leniency with Fraiser.

Not with witnesses around.

He looked at her face and saw the same pained expression that she'd worn that day. No matter what plane of otherworldly existence Daniel had gone off to, it had left one truth very apparent – SG1 was not infallible. They could and did die. Losing another one so soon would shatter her. He remembered seeing her grip the glass of blueberry brandy that he'd poured her, watching as her hands shook slightly as she raised it to her lips.

Cassie had been with friends, and a hotel had been out of the question – it raised more eyebrows then it was worth. The base would only constrict his feelings more, so he'd taken his only other option and brought her to his house that evening.

Getting up and moving to her side, he allowed his arm to move around her back as she leaned forward.

"Where's Cassie tonight?"

Janet blinked, almost as if she were unsure that he had spoken, "On a school trip. Daniel got her so into the History Club." Her voice was just starting to shake and the soft glisten of tears was just becoming visible.

His hand pressed gently into her back, compelling her to rise. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

She turned into him, her face just level with his chest, her hand splayed across it to stop him, "George, I can't." Immediately she looked away and lowered her voice, knowing she shouldn't have addressed him like that in public. "I promised them I wouldn't leave him."

Smiling and cupping her cheek softly before stepping away from her, he whispered, "I know. We'll get Teal'c to take over. But you're going home. You won't be any good to anyone if you're exhausted."

******

Taking her keys out of her hand, George led her to the door and opened it for her. Once inside, it was like a ritual that they'd always done, even though they never had.

He helped her with her coat and then placed both his and hers on hooks. She slipped her shoes off and padded into the kitchen, offering him coffee.

"No, and I don't think you need any either. I may not be a doctor, but I know someone who needs bed rest when I see them." Placing his hand behind her he led her down the hall, he'd never seen her room, but he wasn't surprised by it. The cooling colors of her drapes and comforter, the soft glow of her bedside lamp, the order to everything in it, and the walls were cherry blossom white.


End file.
